


One Path, One Journey

by ettaberry_tea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Autistic Julian Bashir, Cardassian Culture, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Book: Enigma Tales (Star Trek), Post-Canon Cardassia, Wedding Fluff, traditional cardassian enjoinment ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettaberry_tea/pseuds/ettaberry_tea
Summary: Same-sex enjoinments are made legal in the Cardassian Union. Kelas and Elim tie the knot in a traditional Cardassian ceremony. Their many friends take on the roles of their family members in the rituals.Two queer, old lizards celebrate love with their chosen families. Also, Miles accidentally hits on a Cardassian... again.
Relationships: Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, Miles O'Brien/Original Cardassian Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	One Path, One Journey

“You look very handsome,” said Keiko, touching Elim’s shoulders, admiringly.

Elim beamed. He turned to look at all of the people who had gathered under the wide canopy to support him and be his symbolic family. Among them was Kira Nerys, who had fought next to him to free his people from Dominion control. He, in turn, had worked tirelessly to lead Cardassia in restitution and reconciliation with her formerly occupied home world. She was talking to Kel, a leader in the hebetian community (and the daughter of Palendine). 

Pythas Lok, who had been in charge of security when the new government had been in its infancy (and who had once tried to trap Elim in another dimension, but was now forgiven) stood with Nal Dejar, another supporter of the democracy and Pythas’ deeply devoted partner. Pythas had attended the Barmen institute with Elim and was the closest connection Elim had to his past. He saw Elim looking at him, and gave him a nod of acknowledgement, raising the glass of kanar in his hand.

Miles O’Brien was sitting next to Julian Bashir. His daughter, Molly, now a young lady, was hunched over a PADD, probably messaging her new boyfriend she had mentioned earlier. She ignored her father when he suggested she put her PADD away. KiraYoshi kept poking his sister, trying to get her attention. Elim had never expected to become friends with Miles, especially not after he, in an altered state of mind, had held the infamous hero of Setlik 3 at gunpoint.  
Things had changed after the O’Briens had moved to Cardassia. Over time, (and, no doubt with Keiko’s intervention) Miles and Elim had grown in respect for each other and had even played an epic game of kotra, (which Miles won despite Elim trying his hardest). 

Julian was sitting in a hover chair that was decorated with flowers. He held a cube in his hands that was covered in different textures and buttons. Miles encouraged him to push a button, and the cube responded by changing colour. Julian smiled and did it again. Miles touched his friend’s hair affectionately. Julian tilted his head toward him. “You like it when I do that, don’t you,” Miles said rhetorically.  
Julian grabbed for his other hand and explored the texture of Mile’s calloused knuckles, making the engineer laugh. “That tickles!”

Keiko smiled over at them, and then looked back at Elim. “It’s almost time. Are you ready?”

Elim straightened the sleeves of his indigo tunic with gold accents. He chuckled deeply. “I’ve been ready for a long, long time. It would be more fitting to ask if Cardassia is ready.”

“Well, Cardassia’s just going to have to be,” said Keiko. “All right, house of Garak,” she said, clapping her hands together and addressing everyone, “gather together!”

Keiko and Kel unfolded an embroidered shawl and held it high over Elim’s head. A single note from a horn lifted into the air, like the howl of a riding hound. Kirayoshi jumped up in excitement and blew into the horn he had been entrusted with, answering the call. Everyone headed forth in a tight procession.

The air was clean and warm in the giant conservatory where the ceremony would take place. The domed glass protected the diverse Cardassian flora from the pollution outside. It was a respite, a safe haven, an example of what all of Cardassia prime could look like with commitment and patience. 

Kelas and his symbolic family met with Elim’s in a sandy clearing. Kelas was shaded by a shawl of his own. He greeted Elim with his eyes, his hands folded behind his back. Elim returned his loving gaze. Kelas had flowers woven into his white braid. He wore a navy blue and silver tunic.

Kelas’ close friend, Conan Leetvek, a social worker and colleague, stepped forwards. He sneered, getting into the headspace of his role.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” he said, loudly. “Who is this ugly bastard? Is this a joke?”

Nerys crossed the short gap and got in Conan’s face. “This,” she said, spitting her words, “is Elim Garak. That scrawny geezer you are trying to pass off as a suitor should consider himself fortunate that he has attracted his attention.”

Both families started to jeer insults at each other. “Inbred freaks!” “Burdens to the State!” “Nothing but a lineage of bastards and adulteresses!”

Conan made a show of wiping Nerys’ spit off of his face. He moved past her, coming over to Garak, and studying him in an unimpressed manner. He turned back to Nerys. “Is he even fertile?”

Nerys’ eyes went wide and she choked. “Prophets! Garak, I can’t!” 

Her eyes crinkled up with laughter. Conan smirked.

Elim stepped out from under the shawl and stood in the center of the gathering. He spread out his arms theatrically. “Everyone please! Must we always give in to such dramatics?”

Kelas joined him and took his hand. His family gasped and wailed. One of them pretended to faint into the arms of her partner, which won her some giggles.

“We have feuded for far too long,” Kelas said, addressing his family. “I beg you, let my love for this man unite us instead.”

“We are stronger together,” Elim said, “for the sake of Cardassia.”

“For Cardassia,” their families echoed.

The group formed a circle around Kelas and Elim. Molly and a young Cardassian girl brought forth baskets of light, flowy scarves that were each about two meters long. They were many different colours, and silky. The two girls passed them out, one end going to a member of Kelas’ family, and the other end going to a member of Elim’s. 

Kelas and Elim faced each other and joined hands. Kel started up the traditional chant, and everyone joined in. “Sicus’te, sicus’te! Jeld oCh’a tapx’kot! Unite us, unite us! Together, we’re strong!”

They repeated this chant over and over, while they began to wind the scarves around Kelas and Elim. They went over and under each other’s scarves, drawing the two men closer and closer together, closing in on them like the shutter on a camera. Kelas and Elim held their clasped hands between their chests. They pressed their foreheads together, touching noses. Their symbolic families, made of everyone who loved them, pressed close to them, shoulder to shoulder. The chanting died down to a whisper. 

Kelas and Elim closed their eyes. Kelas spoke first, his voice soft, but loud enough for those squeezed around them to hear. “My hands join with your hands, my heart beats with your heart, my path converges with your path.”

“In life, we shall share one bed, in death, one grave,” said Elim. “By your side I shall stay wherever the path may lead.”

“And I at yours.”

Everyone let go of the scarves and cheered, flinging flower petals into the air. Kelas cupped Elim’s cheek with his hand. Elim leaned in and they kissed.

>>\----------♡----------<<

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take your place?” said Nerys.

Miles stretched his arms one at a time. “No, I’m doing this,” he said.

Keiko internally groaned. This was going to be racket-ball all over again.

Miles sized up his opponent. He was at least a head taller than Miles, and probably about thirty in earth years. 

“That’s Slate Rukhaylan,” said Elim. “He’s a veteran. His left arm and leg are biosynthetic, and therefore superior in strength, so his right side is his weak side.”

Miles nodded without taking his eyes off of Slate. Slate stared back at him. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Don’t be intimidated by his height. His center of balance will be higher than yours. Use that to your advantage,” continued Elim. 

He touched Miles on the shoulder. “Good luck Chief.”

The objective of the competition was simple enough. All he needed to do was to push Slate out of the circle drawn on the ground, thereby defeating the house of Parmak. If Slate pushed him out of the circle, Elim would join Parmak’s house and cease to be known as Garak.

“Gather everyone!” cried out Kel. “Let the competition begin!” 

Slate and Miles stepped into the circle. Miles rolled up his sleeves and cracked his neck. Slate gave him a chilling Cardassian smile. It was the smile of a spider looking at a fly in its web. Miles puffed out his chest and narrowed his eyes. He would not be so easily intimidated.

“End him Dad!” yelled Molly. “Take him down!”  
“Destroy him!” roared KiraYoshi, who was having way too much fun.

“All right, no grabbing, pulling, hitting, kicking, choking or throwing. Whoever ends up with both feet out of the circle loses. You may begin when I say go.”

Kel stepped out of the ring. “Are you ready, Miles from the house of Garak?”

Miles stepped one foot backwards into a ready stance. “Aye.”

“Are you ready, Slate from the house of Parmak?”

Slate crouched like a cobra ready to spring, one hand touching the ground. “Indeed.”

Kel paused as tension mounted in the air. “Go!”

Miles and Slate lunged forwards, grabbing each other’s shoulders. Inch by inch, Miles started to slide backwards, his feet gouging trenches in the dirt. He could hear his kids and wife screaming encouragement. “Remember what I said, Chief!” shouted Elim.

Miles’ hind leg touched the edge of the circle. Suddenly, he let go of Slate’s shoulders and lunged at his waist. Slate stumbled backwards. Miles locked one of Slate’s legs and took him down to the ground. Everyone around them went nuts.

Presented with an opportunity, Slate automatically wrapped his leg around Miles’ neck and grabbed his own ankle in a triangle choke. 

“No choke holds!” yelled Kel.

Slate immediately let go. “Sorry,” he said, gruffly. Miles was flushed.

“S’all right,” said Miles, sitting up on his knees.

Miles grabbed one of Slates legs and tried to drag him.

“No pulling, only pushing!”

Miles dropped Slate’s leg. Slate put his hands behind his head and grinned facetiously.

“How am I supposed to push him if he’s lying down?” complained Miles.

Kel shrugged. Slate was getting a lot of laughs. Miles rolled his eyes.

“Alright, move you big lizard,” said Miles, kneeling at Slate’s side and trying to role him like a log.

Slate’s eyes went wide with surprise. Someone in the crowd wolf whistled.

“Aw, shut up!”

Miles rolled Slate onto his stomach, and the Cardassian scrambled backwards onto his knees. Slate and Miles grabbed each other’s shoulders and stumbled to their feet. “What did you just call me? A big ‘lizard’?” said Slate, smirking.

“You’re not getting in my head,” muttered Miles, who was beginning to slide back again.

He stepped to the right, circling away from the edge. Time for a new strategy. He went sideways, freeing himself from Slate’s hands. Slate lunged at him and he dodged out of the way. Slate fell onto his hands and knees. His hands landed outside the circle. Miles put his hands on Slate’s butt and started to push him forwards. Slate looked over his shoulder and wiggled his butt tauntingly in Mile’s face. Miles let go “Aw, come on! Enough of that!”

“It’s really all right, Miles,” said Slate. “I quite enjoy having my ass grabbed.”

Miles stammered and moved backwards. “It’s fine honey!” shouted Keiko. “Grab him!”

Miles turned around to look at her, ready to protest. Slate whipped around, picked Miles up under the arms and wrapped him in a bearhug with his chest to Miles’ back. He then began to push Miles forward. Miles kicked and dug his heals into the dirt. “Put me down!” he said, indignantly.

“With pleasure,” said Slate, shoving him out of the circle.

Parmak’s symbolic family erupted into cheers. They surged forwards, surrounding Elim, taking turns to embrace him.

Keiko and Nerys helped Miles to his feet. “You were awesome, I love you Daddy!” said KiraYoshi, hugging Miles.

“That was pretty cool Dad,” said Molly. “You almost beat him, even though you’re old.”

“Hey!” complained Miles, but he was smiling.

>>\----------♡----------<<

Kelas and Elim sat side by side at the head of a long table. They shared one plate of food between the two of them. Nerys and Connan sat on either side of them. Everyone had food in front of them, but no one was eating yet. Elim affectionately tucked a napkin into Kelas’ collar. Connan put a blindfold over Kelas’ eyes, and Nerys put one over Elim’s. “No peaking,” she said.

Kelas picked up his vaguely fork-shaped utensil and stabbed around until he skewered a piece of Zabu steak on it. He reached out and touched Elim’s chest with his other hand. He moved his laden utensil forwards.

“That’s my cheek dear,” said Elim.

Kelas pulled back, laughing. Elim bopped Kelas on the nose with his own utensil, leaving a smear of sauce on it. Kelas grabbed Elim’s chin and put the stake in his partner’s mouth. He felt Elim pull the steak off the utensil and he beamed.

Elim chewed and swallowed. “All right, Doctor, say Ahh!”

“Ahh… that’s my chin dear… mghf. Mmm, tasty.”

Elim took Kelas’ napkin and blindly cleaned Kelas’ face off. Kelas giggled and did the same for Elim. Then they put their hands on each other’s cheeks and guided each other into a kiss to a chorus of ‘awww’s.

Pythas raised his glass. “To Kelas and Elim Parmak!” He said. “May the rest of their days together be joyful and fertile.”

“Grant it so!” said the other Cardassians (or at least that’s how it translated). Everyone raised their glasses to the toast.

Kelas and Elim, both smiling, removed their blindfolds. They all began to eat. The two newly enjoined continued to feed each other.

“Elim Parmak,” said Kelas, experimentally.

“Hmm, does that retroactively make me Castellan Parmak? They are going to have to rewrite the history books.”

Kelas laughed. “Castellan Parmak. Students hundreds of years from now will curse the day you married me and made their textbooks quite perplexing.”

“Good,” said Elim.

“Congratulations, Elim, Kelas,” said one of Kelas’ doctor friends, raising her glass. “May your enjoinment be productive and fertile.”

“I’m afraid it won’t be fertile, giving our shared biological nature,” said Elim, “but we won’t let that stop us from being quite ‘productive’ indeed!”

Kelas almost choked on his kanar. “Are you all right dear?” asked Elim, innocently.

Kelas swallowed and nodded. “You’re too much for me Elim.”

>>\----------♡----------<<

Once everyone had eaten their fill, all of the adults drifted away from the table and intermingled amongst the gardens. There was tea and gelat, and an assortment of pastries and sweets to be enjoyed. Molly and KiraYoshi had found four Cardassian kids to hang out with. They were standing around the circle where Slate and Miles had wrestled and seemed to be organizing a new match.

Elim and Keiko were admiring the gardens and having a passionate discussion about the many practical uses for different kinds of plants. Kelas was sitting next to a young Cardassian woman. Each had a hatchling in their lap. Kelas made a face at the hatchling, and it shrieked with laughter and grabbed his nose.

Miles looked around for Julian, worried that he might be all alone. He was relieved to see that he wasn’t, but quickly became annoyed.

“Hello Miles!” said Slate, who was helping Julian with his tea. “This is Julian.”

The nerve, the gall, the utter audacity of him to introduce Miles to his own best friend. Miles bristled. “We’ve already met,” he said, icily, taking a seat next to Julian.

Julian held his cup to his mouth on his own and sipped. Slate dabbed a dribble of tea off of Julian’s chin. “If he gets tea on himself, he gets quite cross,” said Slate.

“I know,” said Miles, coldly. “He doesn’t like being sticky.”

Slate seemed to pick up on the implication that Miles did in fact already know Julian quite well. “Kelas told me that you met Elim while you were stationed on Terok Nor.”

“That’s Deep Space Nine to you,” said Miles. “It hasn’t been Terok Nor for a long time.”

“Ah, right. I haven’t visited it since the occupation ended.”

Miles was disgusted. “You were stationed there?”

“No, I served aboard the Galor-class cruiser Trager as a field medic, and later I served on the medical ship Borno’lor as a trauma nurse.”

Miles grunted acknowledgement and leaned back in his chair. “That’s not so bad I suppose.”

“Thank you?” said Slate.

“I mean, I guess it’s all right you’re around Julian. I’d be uncomfortable with it if you had blood on your hands.”

“As a trauma nurse, I often had blood on my hands.”

“No… agh, that’s not…”

Slate had his attention on Julian. “Are you done with that, my friend?” he asked, carefully taking the cup from Julian.

Miles snorted. What was it with Julian and Cardassians anyways? They were drawn to him like a heat lamp. Slate whispered something in Julian’s ear and then gave Miles a sideways look.

“What did you just say to him?”

“Nothing at all.”

Miles folded his arms and huffed. “You know what I think?”

“What is that? Do tell,” said Slate.

“You’re rattling my chain on purpose. It’s that thing you Cardassians do, eh?”

“Your chain?”

“You’re provoking me so that I’ll argue with you.”

“Provoking you?”

“Well what else would you call it? I should have realized what you were up to sooner, you being a friend of the newlyweds and all.”

“And what is it that I’m up to?” said Slate, knowing full well what Miles was implying.

Miles was reaching peak frustration. “You’re trying to get in my pants!”

“Am I? Or is it you who is trying to, as you put it, get into _my_ pants?”

“AAAhgh,” yelled Miles, pulling on his hair.

“I’m flattered, really, but I feel I must disclose that my wife and I are in a monogamous relationship.”

“Hey, don’t you turn this around!”

“I think you mean: ‘don’t you turn this around you big lizard.’”

Julian was giggling and covering his face while gently rocking in his chair. “You agree with me, right?” Slate said to Julian. “You agree that it’s not just my imagination?”

Julian nodded and grinned widely. Miles felt betrayed. He scoffed and looked around for a reason to exit this conversation.

The hatchling on Kelas’ lap started peeping quite insistently. Slate stood up. “My son is hungry. Excuse me one moment.”

Miles sighed in relief. “I can’t believe you,” he said to Julian. 

Julian petted his cube. 

Slate came back with his son and a large bag of supplies. The hatchling clung to the front of his tunic with its sharp little claws. He sat down, took out a container of what sort of looked like raisins, and began to feed them to his son, one by one, after chewing them beforehand.

Julian was very interested in the hatchling. He touched its tiny hand, and it gripped onto his finger with a happy gurgle.

“It really is all right, you know,” Slate said, his voice sounding gentle and earnest. His attention was on his child.

“That’s not the issue,” grumbled Miles. “I swear, I’m not attracted to you.”

Slate spat a little chewed up wad of food into his fingers and put it in his son’s mouth. His son peeped for more. Slate kissed his son’s forehead and began to chew another bit.

“Even if I was, I love my wife,” said Miles after way too long a pause.

Slate sighed and adjusted his son in his lap. “When I say it’s all right, I don’t just mean it’s all right with me.”

Slate gave the food to his son and looked over at Miles. “I mean: It’s all right to find men attractive,” he smiled, “even ones of a different species.”

“I know that,” muttered Miles.

“I’m glad that my sons will grow up knowing that,” said Slate. “They will grow up seeing Kelas and Elim’s love and have no doubt that it’s the same devoted love their parents feel for each other.”

Keiko and Elim had migrated to where Kelas and Juan, Slate’s wife, were sitting with the other hatchling.

Elim had the hatchling in his arms and was fussing over it with Kelas. Keiko and Juan were talking and looking sideways at their husbands. Keiko smiled innocently at Miles, and then looked conspiringly at Juan. Miles stomach flopped with a quiver of anxiety. If Keiko had her way, they were going to be seeing a lot more of Slate and Juan Rukhaylan. Who _knew_ where that could end up going? Keiko could be _very_ persuasive.

Miles squeezed Julian’s shoulder and got up. “Well… nice talking to… um, both of you… I’ve got to, um… go make sure my kids are… not getting too carried away with the whole… wrestling thing.”

>>\----------♡----------<<

Kelas sat at the small table in the kitchen. The room was lit by the glow of candles. Elim stood behind Kelas and carefully brushed his hair, picking out the drying flowers and setting them on the table. Soft music drifted through the room. Elim’s hands brushed against the back of Kelas’s neck.

Kelas stilled Elim’s hand and took the brush from it. He stood without letting go.

Elim tugged on his hand and pulled him into an embrace. They swayed side to side as their breaths synchronized.

They joined their hands and touched foreheads.

“Our hands are one, our hearts are one, our path is one,” said Kelas in a low, quiet voice.

“One bed,” Elim kissed Kelas’ chufa, “one grave,” he rocked back on his heals, pulling Kelas close, “one journey.”

Elim put an arm around Kelas’ waist. They looked out the kitchen window at Cardassia city glowing and pulsing with life.

>>\----------♡----------<<

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Vyc and tinsnip's English-Kardasi dictionary. The sentence structure is atrocious, I'm sure.


End file.
